


The Full Story

by armadillosunset



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Current Direction, Fetus Direction, Fluff, Interviews, M/M, SO FLUFFY, one shots with plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22560673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armadillosunset/pseuds/armadillosunset
Summary: Liam clears his throat, starting yet again. “Now, as I was saying: for the last ten years, there has been one question on everyone’s mind. One question everyone is dying to know the answer to.”“One question that refuses to go away,” Zayn adds.“One question that created an entire sub fanbase,” now Niall’s turn.“‘Is long-hair, prince-hair Harry coming back?!’” Harry shouts.—Or: Harry and Louis are finally free and they grant an interview about their hidden lives.Or, or: One-shots connected by interview dialogue.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 108





	1. Prologue!

**Author's Note:**

> My first work in a really, really long time! I only just joined this fandom (out of a bout of desperation, mind you), so I have given myself a few... creative liberties in regards to events/timing.
> 
> Aka, I was too lazy to research.
> 
> But! I love writing one shots! So I thought to myself, how can I gather the majority of these random bits into one cohesive work without being a jumbled “one-shot collection” or publishing a billion different works?
> 
> The answer: An interview!
> 
> Each narrative is meant to be a triggered memory by Harry or Louis during their interview, and not a story told to the interviewer/reader directly. The narratives and the dialogue are both stand-alone (meaning you could read one and ignore the other, though you’d be missing out tbh), but go well together.
> 
> Enjoy!

The final lines of movie credits scroll upward on the black screen. Rustling begins as the few remaining movie-goers gather their things and prepare to leave, though the lights have yet to turn back on, and music still plays from the surrounding speaker system. Most have already left by now, slowly trickling out as the credits rolled on and on. But a few remained in their seats, those who retained a shred of hope of there being more of something, anything, during the credits, like most movies did these days; though their hopes drastically sank as the final bits and lines of copyrights came up and nothing had appeared but a blank black screen.

Suddenly, the music cuts out mid-song with a screech as if brakes were being applied; people jump, emitting tiny shrieks of surprise from the unexpected noise. They all look up at the screen to see the color quickly skip back and forth from black to white, before eventually settling on the white.

“Ah! Good! You’re still here!” Liam’s cheery voice fills the movie theater. Murmurs of confusion from the patrons can be heard as they look around, wondering just what is going on. The movie was finished. The credits were done. What was this? Their imaginations? As if on cue, the image of Liam walks onto the screen, smiling and giving a little wave as he folds his tattooed arms together in front of him.

There’s a rush as people scramble to sit back down wherever they can to see what’s about to happen. Shouts are made to those who were beyond the doors to come back. Whispers float around as to what’s happening, what’s going on, was this what they had been waiting for?

“Everyone knows that good movies have a nice little nugget at the end of the credits.” Niall’s smiling face winks at the audience as he walks onto the screen and stands beside Liam, resting his arm on Liam’s shoulder, other hand on his hip. “Your reward for watching the film.”

“And ours is no different. Now, for all these years—”

“Uh, Liam?” Niall leans forward, looking at the expanse of empty space on the other side of them.

“Yes?”

“Before you get ahead of yourself, I think we’re short a few.” Niall points to the empty space beside them.

Liam glances over his shoulder to see that they are, indeed, by themselves. “Hmm. You’re right.” He stares directly at the camera with a smile as he lifts an arm and snaps his fingers. Through the magic of cinema, Louis and Harry instantly appear on the screen beside him with a little hop as if they were being set down. They seem dazed, both looking around trying to figure out what just happened, how they magically got there from wherever they were, and just where exactly were they now.

“Was that really necessary?” Louis asks, raising his brow.

“Yes, it was. I was about to do the bit we had planned for the end of the movie.”

“Ah, yes. We ought to be here then.” Harry nods in agreement, a small smirk on his face. He glances down at Louis beside him, who smirks himself upon seeing Harry’s face.

“So, as I was saying—”

“Nope, still missing one.” Niall informs them.

All four boys turn to see the empty bit of space beside Harry, who just sighs and shakes his head as he steps off screen. The other three shift in their spots to see around each other, looking in the direction Harry left. They return to their normal stances as Harry comes back a few seconds later, dragging a bathrobe-and-house-slipper-wearing Zayn behind him.

“I thought the movie was over?”

“We’re doing that thing at the end, that little bonus for the people who stuck it out through the credits instead of leaving as soon as the film ended,” Liam explains again.

Zayn nods his head, a look of realization on his face. “Ohhh, like those superhero movies.”

“That we can’t name because then we’d have to pay them due to copyrights and trademarks.” Louis rocks on his heels as he recites the line, giving the audience a cheeky, nose-scrunched grin.

“Yes exactly. Now. Are we all here? Are we good to go?” Murmurs of agreement sound from the boys and Liam clears his throat, starting yet again. “Now, as I was saying: for the last ten years, there has been one question on everyone’s mind. One question everyone is dying to know the answer to.”

“One question that refuses to go away,” Zayn adds.

“One question that created an entire sub fanbase,” now Niall’s turn.

“‘Is long-hair, prince-hair Harry coming back?!’” Harry shouts with a grin as he spreads his arms wide to the audience.

“No, not that,” Liam gives a quick glare, as the remaining boys roll their eyes or shake their heads.

“The answer to that is also no, by the way,” Harry continues to smile, “I’m too old to pull off that look ever again.”

“You definitely could. Gucci does have headbands, you know,” Louis replies matter-of-factly. “Wait, can I say ‘Gucci’? We can’t say the other thing, but what about ‘Gucci’? Is that okay?”

“Eh, it’s fine.” Harry waves the short one off. “I’ll take care of it. I’ve got a photo shoot coming up—”

“We’re running out of time, gentlemen!” Liam raises his voice, speaking over Harry, and regaining everyone’s attention. “Anyway. This question sparked from one little blurry photo, leaked way back in 2011. And since then, things have blown up, almost out of proportion.”

“Almost,” Harry speaks behind a cough.

“There’s so many social media posts and YouTube videos fans have posted and created over the years that have compiled and analyzed our lives and our careers, trying to find proof to support fans’ theories to this question.” As Niall speaks, Louis silently holds a finger up to Harry before walking away off camera. Harry raises an eyebrow and watches him walk away but says nothing before returning his attention to the camera. “It’s quite amazing really, some of those videos out there, the things that you guys, our fans, noticed.”

“Things that we didn’t even realize had been caught until we watched those fan videos or had clips played back to us by management or other staff.” Zayn gives a nod of agreement.

“Things we thought we were careful enough to hide, or things we thought you would never, ever figure out or remember,” Harry adds, a tone of admiration in his voice as he addresses the camera directly.

Louis finally returns to the screen and carries with him a small step ladder. “We want to tell you all,” he speaks while unfolding the ladder in the spot he had been standing not long before, “because after all this time, you, our fans, deserve the truth. The honest-to-god truth after all these years of carefully chosen words and hidden messages—Argh! Stupid piece of metal!” He smacks the side, the lock refusing to go into place. Harry tries to hide a smile as he calmly lifts his leg and presses down on the bar with his loafer-ed foot, securing the ladder. 

Louis ignores the additional help and takes one step up, now even in height with the tallest member of the group.

“I know you’re all in the theatre right now, but get your phone cameras ready folks. We here at One Direction give you permission to break the rule of ‘no phones during the show’ this one time.” Niall fails to hold back a grin as he turns to look at Louis up on the ladder.

Louis and Harry return Niall’s smile before setting their gazes on each other. They pause a moment, as if silently asking each other if they are ready for what’s about to come. Though it only takes a moment in reality, time seems to slow as Louis sets his hands on Harry’s shoulders, and Harry wraps an arm around Louis’s waist, the other rising up to cup his cheek; each movement so careful, so delicate. The pair lean in with smiles of triumph, and kiss, in full view of the camera, of the audience in the movie theater.

Liam, Niall, and Zayn speak in unison, throwing their arms in the air, smiles beaming from all of their faces. “Is Larry real?!”

As they boys speak, each half of the kissing pair gives the camera a thumbs-up, bringing their hands together to touch at the knuckles as the camera stalls.

The dark movie theater erupts in screams of joy, shock. Cries of “oh my god” and “I knew it” litter the air.

The screams slowly fade out, replaced with gasps and murmurs of awe as the white screen with five men in their twenties fade out, and another image slowly appears on the screen. A black and white photo of two young men, from days gone by, dressed formally in suits and ties. They stand, facing each other, before another person—indistinguishable due to a blurred background. There is clear joy and happiness radiating from the image as the tall boy with slightly curly, slightly wavy, slightly too-long hair shines a beaming smile down at his hands, as the shorter and more angular—and equally as happy, grinning—boy slides a ring onto his finger.

The lights slowly dim on in the theater, and the screen fades out for the final time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your fair warning that from here on out there is potential mild cursing. 
> 
> It’s a natural part of Louis’s vocabulary, after all...
> 
> (Also, did not realize until now that I could put notes on each individual chapter! Exciting!!)

Harry Styles: Thank you for having us.

Interviewer: No, no, please. The honor is all mine. Thank you for choosing us to be the ones to have this exclusive story. How are you guys doing, now that your relationship is all out in the open?

Louis Tomlinson: It’s been crazy. Utterly crazy. In a good way, of course. We were sure there would be a bit of support out there for us, after all this time, but the outpouring has been utterly amazing.

HS: It was all anyone talked about for weeks. Weeks.

LT: We practically broke the internet.

Int: You really did! Record number of hashtag uses, YouTube video views, reblogs, retweets. There’s reports of Instagram crashing for a few moments. You two are even still trending on Twitter! You guys have known each other for a decade, now—evident from One Direction. That’s a long time. How long have you been together?

LT: I uh... that’s a question for Harry.

HS: Me?! You can’t answer how long we’ve been together?

LT: I could, but you’re particular about specific dates and I’m not pissing you off this early in the interview.

Int: Smart man.

HS: I’ll give him that. But to answer your question, probably ten years, I’d guess, just to make things easy. Lou’s right about it being muddy. We pretty much lived together since the moment we got thrown into One Direction so it’s sort of difficult to pinpoint exactly when we went from friend to something more. 

LT: We really just... happened.

HS: So do we go by when we first met? First date—which, I’m not sure when it went from just a meal out to a date honestly? When we got our first flat?

LT: You forgot first kiss.

Harry stared at the bottom of the bunk above him, the slats of the frame supporting the mattress barely visible in the darkness, the only real light coming from a slit in the curtains and Niall’s nightlight. He had been tossing and turning, unable to sleep, since they went to bed hours ago. A quick glance at Liam’s digital clock across the room made him sigh. Okay, maybe it only felt like hours had passed—it was only midnight. The small room was filled with soft snores and rustling bedsheets, the sounds of sleep, but Harry was restless. Tomorrow was going to change their lives in one way or another—how could everyone else sleep as if tomorrow was just another day?

Maybe a glass of water and a walk around the house would calm his restlessness, he decided. Harry swung his legs out from under the covers and sat up, his head connecting with the low clearance of the upper bunk with a thud. “Son of a...,” he muttered, rubbing his throbbing head, stars dancing behind his closed eyelids. 

“You okay?” A familiar voice whispered from above. Harry looked up, blinking a few times to clear his vision. Louis’s head was a dark shape as it peered down over the side of the bed.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Harry whispered back. “Just... can’t sleep.”

“Me either.” Louis paused before adding, “come up?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Harry grinned into the darkness as he quickly stood up and began to climb the small ladder at the foot of the bed. When he reached the top he forced himself to slow down as he climbed onto the bed and squeezed himself between the other boy and the wall. It was only a single bed, just big enough for one person really. To fit both of them they had to lay on their sides, facing each other, only a few small inches separating them, if that; one little movement from either of them and they were brushing against each other—not that Harry minded.

This wasn’t the first time Harry found himself crawling up to the top bunk and laying next to the strikingly attractive bandmate. He had no idea why Louis was so appealing, he just was. He was quirky, kind, caring, and there was something about the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled that made Harry melt on the inside, and made him smile right back. Louis was joy in human form.

“Well, with all this hair, at least no one will notice the goose egg you probably just gave yourself.” Louis gently brushed Harry’s hair with his fingers, up over the top of his head, and out of his eyes, only for some of it to fall back—which he promptly brushed at again, and again, his fingers grazing Harry’s forehead ever so lightly with each sweep.

Harry could feel the heat of a blush creep across his face as Louis played with his hair, and was suddenly thankful for the dim room, muting the colors. However, even in the dark, Harry was close enough to see the details of Louis’s face: hair that stuck up in places from the pillowcase, the way his eyes squinted and creased as he smiled, his nose scrunched, and the grin that spread across his face. It was beautiful, every bit of it. No matter what tomorrow had in store, Harry was glad to be spending this potential last night just like this.

“What’s on your mind, curly?” Louis asked, finished playing with hair, resting his hand on the bit of bed between them, so very close to where Harry had his hand. So very close. It would be so easy to just slide it down and on top of his.

Their eyes met for a moment before Harry quickly looked away. There was something in the other boy’s eyes, a look of caring compassion, a look that Harry felt that Louis could see right inside him and know everything just from a glance. “Just... I keep thinking about tomorrow.”

“What about it?”

“Tomorrow is it. The end. We win or we go home and carry on with our lives like none of this ever happened.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is!” Harry’s exasperated whisper scratched at the air between them. “It’s all or nothing. We win, we... get whatever the winners get. Anything else and we pack our bags and head home and never see each other again.”

“Stop it. You’re panicking for nothing.”

“Wait. What if when we get back after the show everything’s already packed up for us and we leave right then and there?”

“Well, then we’ll definitely see each other again. Have you seen the state of this room? Everyone’s stuff is all over the place. I’m not even sure if we remember what belongs to who without thinking about it.” Louis’s smile was a strange comfort to Harry. That this person he had only known for a matter of weeks could somehow have such an effect with such a simple gesture? Even Harry didn’t understand why. It just simply was. “Besides, between your curls and my charm, we’ve got this thing in the bag. The other lads, our majestic voices? Just bonuses really.”

“You really think?”

“Yeah. I do. Do you remember what I said when we first met? Properly met, not in the toilets.”

Harry shook his head as best as he could with his head resting on their shared pillow.

“You’re going places, Styles.”

“The only place I’m going is back to Holmes—” 

“You’re going to be big; soon, the world will know the name Harry Styles. Even if we don’t win—and that’s a big if, mind you—we’ve been on television, we’re on the Internet! Some big shot is going to snap you up as soon as they can.” Louis tapped the bridge of nose between Harry’s eyes with a single finger, causing Harry’s eyes to cross. “You’ve got potential. Loads of it.”

Harry let out a small giggle as Louis slid his finger down his nose, giving the tip a quick tap. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You've got potential, too.”

“But I’ve also got a tendency to sound like a strangled cockatoo.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry laughed. “You have the voice of an angel.” He slapped a hand over his mouth when he realized what he had just said.

“Aw, Love. You got me blushin’.”

Harry looked away as a smile snuck onto his face. He really couldn’t believe he just blurted that out. After a moment of silence, he tried desperately to revive the conversation—a difficult task as he found Louis’s eyes to still be gazing at him when he looked back. “But really, Lou. What if? What would you do if we have to leave tomorrow?”

In the dim light Harry could see the spark leave the other boy’s eyes. He must have thought about this, about their departure from here, and wasn’t fond of any of the solutions he had come up with. “In all seriousness? I have no idea. I guess try school again? I failed once already, but I don’t know. Find some kind of job at least, so I’m not that kid. I’ve wanted this for so long—to sing, to perform—every other option pales in comparison. To think of going back home and living a normal life, it’s just... Yeah.”

“Same,” Harry whispered back, meeting Louis’s sad eyes. He had never seen them like that, so dull, so lifeless. It was unnerving.

“No, not the same. You’re young. You still have your whole life ahead of you.”

“I’m only two years younger than you!” Instantly Harry was smiling again. He playfully punched the other boy’s chest—the fraction of a second of their touch almost more than he could bear. Somehow, Louis got his spirits back up in one little sentence. How? How could someone do that so easily? Better yet, how could Harry let someone do that so easily?

Louis returned the smile for a moment before it disappeared as he shifted his gaze down to Harry’s hand resting on the pillow between them. “Go home, go back to school, find yourself a nice girl, be happy.”

“Maybe... maybe I don’t want a girl.” Harry was staring at his hand now too. He had never admitted that to anyone here before now, and only a few people back home knew. How Louis just made him blurt things out he would never understand.

“Okay. Find yourself a nice boy then, a good lad. Whatever your little curls desire. As long as they treat you right. That’s what matters.”

Louis spoke so casually it made Harry’s heart skip a beat—that it didn’t matter to Louis that his bunk mate was laying this close to him in the middle of the night and had just confessed his love for the same sex. Harry very nearly replied with ‘like you do’, but somehow managed to find a single shred of control somewhere in his godforsaken jumbled mind and kept his mouth shut. Being around Louis had a tendency to do that, shake things up beyond recognition, leaving Harry confused and speechless, blurting out random things. Not that that wasn’t already evident this evening.

“How... how did you know?”

“Hmm?” Harry was snapped back to reality.

“Sorry, that was a bit blunt wasn’t it.”

“No, no. Not at all. Go on. My head was just... somewhere else.”

“How did you know? That you like boys, I mean.”

“The same way you know you like a girl.”

“Just like that?”

“Exactly like that.” Harry paused before continuing. “I like both, you know.”

“It’s nice to have options.” There was something different about Louis’s smile now, something more to it that Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on. Related, he quickly considered the things he would give in order to touch those lips with his finger, to see if they really were as soft as they looked.

Not that he ever thought about how soft Louis’s lips might be.

“Now tell me,” Louis shifted a bit, adjusting his position where he lay. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he swore the other boy had moved closer, but maybe he was imagining it. It was a narrow space to begin with. “Have you ever kissed a boy?”

Harry simply stared back, speechless. Louis definitely was closer, as Harry could feel soft puffs of warm air hit his face as the other boy spoke.

Like the majority of his actions this evening, Harry moved without fully thinking things through. Closing what was left of the gap between them, he forcefully slammed his lips onto Louis’s, sliding his hand up to hold the boy’s cheek. A pang of regret hit him as the kiss remained one-sided, as Louis lay motionless. He fully expected at any moment to be shoved backward, for Louis to let out a cry of disgust, for this small world to shatter as the others woke up from the inevitable commotion.

For once in his life, why couldn’t he think something through—

Harry’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an arm wrapping around him, pulling his body and pressing it up against the other inhabitant of the bed, as a leg slid over, hooking around his. Louis began to kiss him back, their mouths moving together as if they had done this hundreds of times—his lips so much softer than Harry had ever imagined they would be. He had never understood the meaning of having butterflies in your stomach until now. As they kissed, as Louis held him, Harry could feel his entire insides flutter—not just his stomach—as if any moment he would begin floating in mid air above the bunk bed.

Eventually, and with much reluctance, Harry broke their kiss, needing air. He gasped, eyes wide as the other boy simply smirked back at him. “Not quite what I was going for with that question, but I’m not complaining,” Louis spoke slowly, his tongue quickly licking his lips. “Do you always go around like that, kissing people out of nowhere?”

“You... you like... you mean you’re...?” Harry managed between breaths, as he had a hard time believing the current situation he found himself in.

“I guess so. Because that was truly honestly the best kiss I’ve ever gotten. And I’ve kissed a good number of girls, mind you.”

Harry considered kissing him again, just to see if this was really real and not his brain playing tricks on him. But at that moment, Louis tightened his arm, pulling Harry in closer, his face pressed into Louis’s shirt.

“Stay?” The boy softly whispered into Harry’s ear as he released his arm and pulled the blanket up, tucking it around them before Harry even had a chance to answer.

“Okay,” Harry murmured as the boy wrapped his arm back around Harry, sleep tickling at the back of his mind as he breathed in the scent of fabric softener from Louis’s shirt. 

“Tomorrow will be okay, love,” Louis yawned. “I promise. Everything will work out fine. You’ll... see...” 

Harry found himself yawning as well, sleep finally coming around to overtake him. His final thoughts before drifting off to sleep lingered on how he could get used to sleeping like this and that maybe tomorrow would be okay after all.

HS: I did, didn’t I. Oh, there’s also that concert.

LT: Please, no. I have enough dates to keep track of already. Let’s not add another after all these years.

Int: Concert? You guys went to a concert together?

LT: Not together, no. We happened to be at the same concert, before X Factor. Apparently Harry saw me and never forgot about me.

HS: Love at first sight.

LT: I have no recollection of him being there whatsoever.

HS: Liar!


	3. Chapter 3

Int: Woah now, no need to get all worked up.

LT: Ah, this is nothin. All in good fun. Honestly, we’re the kings of having spats, arguing about some of the stupidest, most trivial things over the years. Mostly because one of us has too much pride to say something we ought to, and then it just devolves from there.

HS: And by ‘one of us’, he means himself. A good ninety percent of the time.

LT: Oh, hush.

“You need to come get Louis.”

“No.” Harry snapped at Liam through his cellphone, their call on speakerphone. He was sprawled out on the couch of the hotel room watching Niall flip through the various cable channels the hotel had to offer, trying to find something worth watching as he sat on the coffee table.

“Harry, he’s completely drunk and he’s starting to make a fool of himself.”

“Why should I care? Niall, stop. The Notebook!”

“Nah, I’m not watching something sappy,” Niall replied, his eyes not leaving the TV as he continued to hit the UP channel button.

“Harry! Please! Management has us scheduled here for another two hours. I can’t keep track of him and Zayn at the same time!”

“Shove him in a taxi or something.”

“You know it isn’t safe to send him alone with us being who we are!” Liam’s exasperated voice blared through the tiny speaker. “I don’t know what you two are fighting about this time, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. Just come get your fucking boyfriend before he gets us thrown out of here and management runs us through the goddamned wringer because of it!”

“You should go,” Niall glanced back at Harry, the TV stalled on a black and white TV show. “Liam means business. He swore. Twice. And he never swears.”

“Thank you, Niall, I appreciate your support.”

“Anytime, Payno.”

Harry sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Niall and Liam were right. A drunk Louis, no matter which of his seventeen drunk moods he was currently in, was a serious hazard to anything management had planned. Four of those moods put him as a danger to himself and others, and absolutely none of them were particularly fun to be around without a few drinks yourself. And if this was indeed a management-sanctioned outing, Louis was supposed to be playing the role of the mature-but-fun band member, not the drunken fool.

And, if Harry was being completely honest with himself, he was probably the majority of the reason why Louis was excessively drinking tonight.

“Fine. Im coming. Text me where you’re at.” He ended the call before Liam had a chance to break into an endless string of thank yous.

“Go get your man,” the blonde boy smirked.

Harry glared at the back of the boy’s head as he sat up. “I’m just going to drag his sorry ass back here to avoid a lecture from management. He can sober his own arrogant self up. Alone.”

“Which anniversary did he forget?”

“It’s not that. Wait, what?”

“You’re mad at him again. And you guys have like ten different anniversaries.”

“We do not!”

“Do too. I’ve seen Liam’s Google Calendar.”

Harry’s phone buzzed in his hands as Liam’s text came in. “Liam has a calendar? Now he definitely has no reason to forget—oh come on!” He threw his hands up after reading the message. “They’re at some trendy night club. Why can’t it ever be a sleepy little pub? Get in get out, maybe four people recognize us.”

“That’s the whole point of publicity events. For people to see us.”

“Shut up.” Harry made his way over to a pile of coats on the floor near the door, rifling through it for a hoodie. “Assuming they even let me in on my own, I’ll be stopping every five seconds for pictures while trying to find that intoxicated little pixie in a crowd of average height people.”

“You’re Harry Styles. You can get in anywhere.” Niall paused before laughing. “Also, I am definitely saving that one for later. Intoxicated little pixie.”

Harry flipped a quick bird over his shoulder as he walked out the door and made his way out of the hotel. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head in the elevator in hopes it would help disguise him and he could avoid at least a few people tonight. A cab was easy to find outside the hotel, located almost in the heart of a busy city. After giving the driver the address, the man glanced at his passenger through the rear view mirror, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something. Harry simply gave the man a glare from beneath his hood before pulling out his phone and pretending to look through it as the driver gave up and merged into traffic, no words passing between them for the entire trip.

The club wasn’t far from the hotel, and he honestly could have walked, but this was faster and a moving car prevented people from stopping him along the way. Harry just wanted this chore to be over with. When the cab pulled up to the curb, he fished a small stack of bills from his wallet, more than what the fare came to, and shoved it through the small window. “I’m picking up a friend. Wait for me and I’ll pay double that for the trip back.” He exited before the cabbie had a chance to answer.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, electronic music with a heavy bass assaulted him along with the overpowering chatter of people waiting in the line that snaked from the door to a few buildings down. There was only one way he was getting in any time soon. He sauntered over to the large man who stood between the crowd and the entrance to the building—your stereotypical bouncer: black shirt, army haircut, muscles that could snap a man’s neck without much effort.

The man instantly noticed him. “Hey, kid, back of the line.” The deep voice growled as the large man took a step forward.

With a quick tug, Harry pulled down his hood, a grin plastered on his face. When he spoke, he pulled out the heaviest English accent he could muster without sounding like Louis. “Hey! How’s it going?”

“Well if it ain’t Harry Styles,” the bouncers’s voice boomed, his demeanor softening. A couple people in line screamed. “People’ve been asking me all night if you’re here too. Your buddies got here not that long ago. Word travels.”

“Yeah, Yeah,” Harry shrugged, “was planning on staying in tonight. Changed my mind. Are those three still here? If so I’d love it if I could just...” He meekly motioned a thumb toward the entrance.

“What? Oh yeah! Yeah they’re still here, go right on in.” The man stepped to the side to allow Harry passage. “There’s a VIP section near the back, they should probably be around there. I’ll radio in, let them know you’re headed that way.”

“Thanks... eh...?”

“Robert. The name’s Robert.”

“Thanks, Robert. You’re a good man.” Harry gave a small wink as he patted the man’s shoulder before entering the building.

Inside, the music intensified, the beat of the bass sending shockwaves through Harry’s entire body. He kept his head down as he pushed his way through the crowd of people dancing, making as straight of a line as possible toward the back. The crowd thinned the farther he went, though it was still much too crowded for his liking. Whose bright idea was it to pick this club, of all places, to generate media photos from fans anyway? Catching a break in the throng of people, Harry darted to the right for a little space. He came out at the far end of the club’s bar, the DJ and speakers were on the other side of the room and Harry was finally far enough away to hear himself think.

A hand suddenly grabbed his arm, his heart taking a massive leap out of his chest as the gesture caught him off guard.

“There you are!” Harry spun around and came face to face with a grinning, glassy-eyed Zayn. “Liam said you were coming. I didn’t believe him. But here you are! The boys are right over here.” Before Harry could reply, Zayn was dragging him closer to the bar.

“Louis William, get your bum off the bar counter! Now!” Liam shouted over the music, his hands on his hips. He stared up at a swaying Louis who was, indeed, sat up on the bar, his feet on the barstool in front of him.

“Nnnnnn-no.” Louis smirked before downing another drink from the bottle in his hand. “You’re not... not my mummy! Besides, I can finally see!” His words slurred together and the alcohol made his accent heavier than normal, making it difficult to understand just what he was saying.

“Look who I found!” Zayn sang as they neared closer. “Now we can really party! Whoo!”

“Oof, aren’t you a handsome little devil.” Louis met Harry’s eyes with one of his smoldering smiles and eye squints, a look Harry was all too familiar with. Louis’s hand extended out toward Harry. “Louis. Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Woah there, lad!” Louis dug his heels into the barstool. “You know what you want, and I like that. But unfortunately for you, I’m spoken for. Yep. Already got me a good man, a real catch.”

“What?” Harry raised an eyebrow, looking to Liam.

“Shit. Did I grab the wrong bloke again?” Zayn looked intently at Harry’s face, confused.

“Don’t say that so loud,” Liam hissed at the boy still sitting on the bar. He turned to Harry, motioning to the two others in their party. “See what I’m dealing with here?”

“Damn good lookin too. Honestly don’t know how I managed to get ‘im.” Louis continued on, paying them no mind, as he finished off his drink.

“Seriously, Louis, let’s go.” Harry tugged again.

“Can’t take no for an answer, can you, boyo?” Louis growled as his mood changed with a snap, an unfortunately common occurrence when he was this drunk.

Liam noticed the change and was the first to jump into action. “It’s okay. He’s taking you back to the hotel. Zayn and I are gonna stay a bit longer.”

“Hotel!” Louis practically shouted as he finally hopped down off the bar. “A hotel?! Are you nuts, Payne? You’re absolutely nuts! Harry is already pissed off at me. I am certainly not going to another man’s hotel room! No matter how dashing he is, because I love Harry. He may be mad at me, but I still love him with all me heart. So, Nope. No way. Not happening.” 

Harry was taken aback. He had been ignoring Louis for the better part of two days now, yet here he was still saying he loved him, that he was refusing to go anywhere with a stranger. Harry had half expected Louis to do something in retaliation to make him mad. But he hadn’t. Even though they were arguing, Louis still remained faithful.

Louis began to climb back up the bar but Liam grabbed him by the back of the shirt, yanking him down. “No, you idiot. THIS is Harry. And he’s taking your drunk ass back to the hotel!”

Louis squinted back at Harry. “Impossible. Harry is much better looking. Besides, like I said, he’s mad at me. No way he’d come down to a loud club for me, even if we were on good terms. He hates these kinds of places! He-he told me to piss off when I left!”

“Sure, that part you remember,” Harry muttered.

“Regardless, he’s taking you back because Zayn and I can’t leave yet. Speaking of, where is he?”

“I think he went looking for another me,” Harry pointed behind him at the crowd.

“Oh for the love of...,” Liam covered his face for a moment, sighing. “Look, Tommo. Just go with this nice man back to the hotel room—our hotel room, where Niall is. When have I ever steered you wrong? Don’t answer that.”

Louis gave Harry a once over and shrugged, swinging his arm over the tall boy’s shoulders. “Alright. But no funny business. I mean it.” Louis’s finger swayed as he pointed it at Harry’s face.

“You’re taken, I know,” Harry rolled his eyes as he grabbed Louis’s swaying hand and shoved it down before a finger ended up in his eye. He turned to Liam before the boy disappeared. “For the record, I got here perfectly fine in a cab. By myself.”

“Just go. Before he changes his mind.” Liam waved them off as he dove back into the crowd of dancing people.

Louis leaned the weight of his small frame on Harry’s shoulders. “Well, if I’m stuck with an escort, at least it’s a cute one. So what’s your name, lad?”

“Harry.” He sighed as he wrapped an arm around Louis’s back to help support him and drag him forward. “Come on, let’s just go.”

“Really! You know, people say you have a type. I didn’t know me type went all the way down to the bloke’s name!” Louis began laughing as he stumbled alongside Harry, who simply shook his head and trudged onward.

Slowly they made their way into the crowd, Harry pushing their way forward while dragging Louis behind him. The bass of the music drowned out Louis’s voice as they made their way across the crowded dance floor—his mouth was moving each time Harry glanced down, but he had no clue what was being said. After an eternity, the entrance came into sight and Harry stumbled out, relieved at the feel of the cool night air. Strangely, what he thought was assaulting noise earlier was peacefully quiet now.

“—reason why I am no longer welcome in the entire state of Idaho.” Louis’s voice became audible again now that they were outside. “True story.”

“I know. I was there.”

“Hey, leaving so soon?” Robert called from his post at the head of the line. He took one glance at the pair before adding, “I had your cab park around the corner, he was blocking traffic.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered with a wave to the bouncer as he continued to drag Louis down the sidewalk. He was acutely aware of all the phones focused on them as they passed the line of people waiting to get in. So much for getting out without being noticed.

“I need some advice.” Louis slurred as they walked past the line of people.

“On what?” Harry’s voice was laced with irritation. He was still very much angry with Louis, but Louis had the strange power of making it harder to remain angry the longer Harry stayed around him—especially so having to be so close, their bodies pressed together as they were, the strange scent of cologne mixed with sweat and alcohol that came off of him, all certainly weren’t helping. At this rate, by time they made it back to the hotel, Harry would have forgiven him and neither of them would be sleeping on the pullout sofa.

“I screwed up. I really went and screwed things up! What if he never takes me back? I have to fix this. I should just let him buy the stupid house. It’s his money anyway, I shouldn’t tell him now to spend it.”

Harry suddenly stopped, and Louis pitched forward, not expecting the sudden pause in motion. Harry scrambled to catch the young man before he landed on the sidewalk, standing him back up.

This was it. This was their argument. Harry had suggested buying a home out in LA—they certainly spent enough time out there during the little bit of time when they weren’t on tours. Louis instantly began to freak out, strongly against the idea though he danced around the exact reasons why. Words were exchanged that devolved into insults being thrown and names being called from both sides. They had barely spoken since.

Louis shook off the event, continuing on as if nothing happened. “Maybe I should buy the house for him. I’ve got just as much money. Should I buy the house?”

“Do you... do you want the house?”

“Fuck no I don’t!”

Harry took a sharp breath, trying to contain his rising anger. They rounded the street corner and saw the cab parked not far off. “Why don’t you want it?” Harry gritted through his teeth, pulling Louis along a little rougher than he should have, given his current state.

“Because... because...” Louis choked out a sob, “Because it’s in Los Angeles! Do you know how far away from England that is? It’s the other side of the world! I imagined us settling down back home, by our families. Away from all... all this!”

Settle down? “All What?” 

Louis waved his arms. “This! Touring! Fame!” Harry opened the cab door and shoved Louis in as he kept talking, clearly not disturbed by being manhandled. “The fact that when we aren’t back home we have to be completely different people. All those stupid big shots there are the reason why we can’t be us, we can’t be in love—all so they can make more money. They only care about themselves. There’s so many horrible things about LA, so many.” Louis was fully sobbing now.

“He’s fine. Just extremely drunk.” Harry met the cab driver’s eyes through the rear view mirror. He turned back to Louis as the driver nodded and did a quick u-turn to drive back to the hotel. “You should tell him.”

“H-huh?” Louis sniffed, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve.

“You should tell him why you don’t want the house. Maybe... maybe he just doesn’t understand why. Maybe you’re both thinking different things and don’t realize it.” Harry choked on his words as he thought of it all in this new light. He had thought Louis was just purposely being stubborn, that he didn’t want to do something like buy a house together. Had he even mentioned that he wanted it simply as an alternative to hotels, and not as Home? Harry couldn’t remember. Maybe Louis did try to mention his concerns, and Harry didn’t remember or over talked him.

He should have known better by now that all those hurtful words were just the other boy panicking and not being able to say what he meant. It didn’t justify those words being said in the first place, but Harry understood the reasoning behind the whole exchange.

“I’m right shit at apologies. If he’ll even listen to me.”

“He will.”

“I said things, things I never should have even thought. I didn’t mean them. I said them because I knew they would hurt. And they did. And now he, rightfully, isn’t speaking to me.”

“He’ll listen. I’ve got a good feeling. Just talk to him.” Harry offered a smile.

Louis simply stared back into Harry’s eyes for a minute, searching for something, before lowering his gaze and staring at his hands. They were quiet for the remainder of the short trip. At the curb of the hotel, Harry paid the driver what he had promised, as well as an extra bill as he stated, “we were never here.” Without assistance, Louis followed Harry out of the cab. Though, after a few stumbles on their way to the front door, Harry snaked his arm back around the short boy’s waist for support. They made it all the way to the elevator in silence.

“Harry?” Louis’s voice was quiet after the doors had closed and they felt the movement of being pulled upward.

“Hmm?”

“Could you ever forgive me? For everything?” Louis stared ahead at the slightly reflective metal doors.

“Already have,” Harry nudged the short boy with his arm.

“I don’t want to move to LA.”

“Me either.”

“But you want the house.”

“I want you.”

“But you—”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you’re sober. For now we’ll leave it at I forgive you.”

“Good. Cause that sofa is a piece of shit and the thought of waking up hungover on it is very unappealing.”

The elevator slowed as they reached their floor, the force causing Louis’s knees to buckle and Harry to scramble to catch him once more. “When did you finally realize I’m actually me?” Harry asked, arms still holding Louis up as they exited the elevator and made their way down the hall.

“Noticed your rings in the cab. I think it kinda sobered me up to be honest, realizing you came for me.”

“Says the man who nearly face planted in the elevator.” 

“Funny. Very funny,” Louis remarked as they finally reached the correct door. “Let’s just get in before I throw up on this carpet and I can get started on sleeping this off.”

“Shit, I don’t think I grabbed the key card on the way out,” Harry searched his pockets twice before knocking on the door and calling for Niall. The pair was taken aback as the door swung open after a minute. “What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked as he pulled Louis through the door, brushing past Niall. 

The Blonde boy scowled at them, his eyes red and cheeks wet. “I hate you,” he sniffed as he jabbed a finger toward Harry, closing the door.

Louis detached himself from his escort and stumbled his way toward the bathroom. Harry turned in the direction Louis was walking and laughed as he caught sight of the TV, the screen paused near the end of The Notebook.

“I hate you so much.”

HS: We’ve been arguing like an old married couple for years.

Int: I can see. That also brings up another point I was going to touch base on later in the interview. Might as well do it now. Now, other than the rumors of you two being in a relationship, there’s also the rumor that you two are actually married as well. Is there anything you’d like to say in regards to that?

LT: Ehhh... yes and no? It’s complicated.

HS: Like everything else in our lives.

LT: Very true.

HS: Yes, in that there was a lovely little ceremony and party and whatnot. No, in that technically we aren’t legally married.

LT: If we’re going to go down this route, we should really start at the beginning of that entire saga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully no one is getting spoiled with all these frequent/daily updates. I’ve been on vacation and thus have had the time to sit down and edit all this!
> 
> We’re also about to reach one of two sections in my outline where I don’t have everything pre-written/heavily drafted and so I have to sit down and actually write-write from scratch, haha~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I write in their accents, for no good reason other than I’m in too deep and it just happens.
> 
> This is one of those times.
> 
> Sorry not sorry.

HS: Saga? What do you mean, “entire saga”?

Int: I’m with Harry on this. Please, elaborate.

LT: I mean, now that we’re out, it’s about time I received a bit of recognition for all me hard work. You don’t know the half of it, Haz, because I never told you. I mean, I practically wrote the book on how to fail at proposing.

Int: So you’re the one who popped the question then?

LT: Yeah, yeah. It was me. But, god, the work I did. I would come up with plans, beautiful, romantic, thought-out plans. And every time, every single time, something went wrong and I was sent right back to the drawing board.

HS: How... how long were you trying to propose for?

LT: Almost a good year, I’d say. A good year. Right at the end of our first tour to when the stars finally—finally—aligned and I asked you. But even that is getting ahead of meself.

“Why me? Why do I have to go run your errands?” Liam scowled at Louis from where he was propped up against the headboard of the bed in their hotel room.

“Because you’re the only one out of all of us who has an actual, real, out-in-the-open girlfriend.”

“So do you.”

“That you actually chose to love; not because you were set up as a stunt.” At this point Louis was waving his arms in time with his words, trying desperately to get his point across. “So it’s not weird for you to go out and buy something for your girlfriend who stays out of the public eye. No one will think twice. If I go the paps will be sniffing around me, and that little brat they set me up with, for the next month to find out what happened with what I bought. Not to mention the lecture I’ll get and the, quote, ‘damage control’ I’ll have to suffer through.”

“We have people to go buy things for us, you know.”

“Yes, But this is an extremely delicate matter and I really can’t trust them because I know they’ll snitch on me to management. This is important, Liam.”

“What about Niall? Zayn? Your little boy-toy?” Liam listed the boys’ names off on his fingers.

A groan escaped Louis’s throat as he paced the foot of the bed, his frustration peaking. “God love ‘im, but you know Niall can’t keep his trap shut. And he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Besides, he doesn’t know it but he’s keeping Harry busy for me. Zayn has vowed not to do another thing that puts him in association with this little ‘fling’ between me and Harry because he’s still on management’s shit list from the Toronto incident. And he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Harry could maybe do it and explain that it’s for his sister or mum, but this is all for him so I can’t have him do it. You’re all that’s left and I’m desperate. Do you think I would be asking you if there was anyone else at all who could do this?”

“But why does it matter that I have a girlfriend to do this task of yours?”

“Because I need you to go pick something up.”

“Still not seeing the point here, Tommo.”

Louis rolled his eyes as he pulled his phone from his pocket. After a few taps he turned it around so Liam could see. “This. I need you to go pick up this ring from a jeweler that’s only a few streets over from the hotel. And because you have a girlfriend it makes the most sense for you to be seen walking into a jewelry store out of all of us.”

“A ring.”

“Yes, a ring. I’m sure you’ve seen one before. They’re not too terribly uncommon.”

Liam raised an eyebrow as he looked from the phone screen to his friend, and back again. When Louis started to get irritated once more, he finally spoke. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Please, Liam, I—Really?”

“On one condition.”

“Of course. Anything. You name it.”

“Actually, two conditions.”

“Yes! Yes! Just name them and they’re yours!”

“First: I get to be your best man.”

Louis’s eyes widened in shock. “I—What—But I didn’t—”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not an idiot. I know an engagement ring when I see one. And that, right there, is an engagement ring. You’re going to ask Harry to marry you. And when he inevitably says yes, there will be a wedding. And at that wedding I will be your best man.”

“Okay. Yeah. You’ll be me best man, Payno. Promise. And what’s the other thing?”

“Second,” Liam smirked, holding up two fingers, “is that I get to plan the wedding.”

“WHAT. NO.”

“That’s my second condition.”

“But it’s our... what if Harry has... it should be—”

“Do you want me to get the ring or not?”

Daggers shot from Louis’s eyes as he contemplated the other, non existent options. There really was no other choice but to give Liam what he wanted; they were leaving tomorrow and Harry would be getting fed up with Niall soon and would be dragging him back to the hotel. This was the only window in which to get the ring without Harry seeing. 

There was also the small matter of the fact Louis had already made all the arrangements under Liam’s name. He had to be the one to do this.

With no other choice, Louis gave a sigh of defeat. “Okay. Best man and wedding planner it is.”

“Excellent,” Liam beamed, shaking Louis’s hand as he slid off the bed, “You won’t be disappointed.”

“Yes, Yes. Now get going. Before Harry and Niall get back.” Louis shooed Liam toward the door, tossing him his jacket. “The ring’s paid for and I put it in your name so you just need to pick it up and bring it back. I’ll text you the address.”

“Wait. You put it in my name before you even knew if I would go get it?”

“A man does desperate things when he’s in love. Now, please, time really is of the essence.”

“Where are Harry and Niall anyway?” Liam asked, sliding his jacket on.

Louis let loose a smirk as he waved his hand. “I may have mentioned to Niall that there’s a food festival going on this weekend halfway across the city. And I may have promised Harry a few things if he would go with Niall instead of me.”

“You’re a little sneak, you know that?”

“And yet you wonder why Harry loves me. Now get going!”

LT: You see, I should have taken it as a sign that I had a hard time even getting me hands on the ring. I saw it while we were out doing some sort of PR thing, and I just knew it when I saw it, you know? But I couldn’t just buy it meself. I mean, I know when to push me luck with management and that was definitely not the time to be pushin me luck. The favors I had to promise just to finally get it were ridiculous.

Int: But you finally got it?

LT: Yep, got it in me hands and about ten seconds later Harry came around. At least that timed out perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I fully support the idea that, to this day, Liam has multiple 3 ring binders filled with almost a decade’s-worth of wedding ideas and inspo ready to whip out when the time comes. No one can convince me otherwise. No one!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent an entire day trying to figure out the best way to adjust this chapter. An. Entire. Day. When I’m writing things up in my word doc, I use various combos of italics, bold, and regular text to (further) help differentiate who speaks when during group text messaging bits, on the rare occasion where they are absolutely necessary (like here). Now, I know the generic basics for HTML, but still could not for the life of me figure out how to get it to work here.
> 
> So when you see a line labeled as:
> 
> —‘(blah blah words and stuff)’
> 
> That’s Louis’s replies. Everyone else is labeled appropriately by the initial of their name. I’m a writer. Not a coder. Sheesh!

Int: So When was the first time you tried proposing?

LT: When we were on our flight home at the end of the tour.

“Really? You’re really going to?”

“Now? On the plane?”

“Are we going to be there? Can we see?”

“Shut up, will you?” Louis glared back at the trail of band mates following behind him, bombarding him with whispered questions. Harry was a few paces ahead of them, chatting with one of the crew members, as they made their way onto a small plane. 

“Sorry, but,” Zayn persisted, “it’s just, really? Now? Over an ocean? If things go bad you’ll be stuck together for like ten hours in a tiny metal can with nowhere to go.”

“Things won’t go bad. Harry will say yes.” Niall grinned.

Louis rolled his eyes as they climbed the last of the stairs and into the plane itself. He really regretted mentioning his intentions to Liam this morning while they were packing up. This whole time he thought it was Niall who couldn’t keep things to himself.

“Not on the plane,” Louis finally hissed at the squabbling boys as they set their bags down. “When we land. Now all of you shut the fuck up right now before Harry hears.”

“Hey Lou,” Harry’s voice drifted from across the plane and Louis froze, eyes wide, “can you grab my charger from my bag?”

“Got it!” Louis breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed the white cord that was half hanging out of a nearby duffel. “I mean it. Not a word from any of you for the next I don’t know how many hours. Understand?”

The boys nodded and muttered their agreements as they made their way into the cabin.

“Here you go, love.”

“Thanks.” Harry gave Louis a peck on the cheek as he took the charger before flopping down on the long, couch-like seat and searching for an outlet. Louis dared a glance behind him to the boys, now scattered about the cabin, only to find them smiling and giving him thumbs-up gestures. In return, Louis saluted them with a single finger before scooping Harry up and sliding onto the seat beneath him.

The flight took off and continued smoothly without another word from anyone about pending plans. With only a few hours left in the air, the lights in the cabin had been dimmed in hopes of getting some semblance of sleep before landing. Louis had stretched out on the seat with Harry tucked between him and the chair, asleep, his head on Louis’s chest and an arm wrapped protectively around his waist. The nerves had begun to settle in and Louis lay awake as everyone dozed. He had tucked a blanket around the both of them and had just begun gently petting the beautiful display of curls before him when his phone buzzed. Sliding the device from his pocket, he nearly blinded himself from the brightness of the screen.

The phone buzzed again as his eyes adjusted. Harry shifted in his sleep and Louis cursed under his breath as he scrambled to turn the phone to silent. Another notice appeared on the screen.

l- it’s almost time! Tell us more!  
n- yeah we need the deets so we can help  
z- will you all shut up? He’s probably asleep.

Louis looked up and scanned the room, and sure enough found the soft glow of three lit phone screens in the dark cabin.

n- as wingmen we have a right to know

Double checking that Harry wasn’t in on this group chat—thankfully this lot had enough brains between them to create a new chat and exclude him—Louis typed out his replies.

—‘If Harry wakes up you’re all dead’  
—‘And I thought I said no talking about this’

l- we’re not talking we’re texting

—‘same difference’  
—‘and none of you have a right to anything’

z- ouch  
n- ah come on plz we want to help  
l- just think if something starts going wrong we can swoop in and get things back on track! save the day!  
z- things going wrong?  
z- NOT HELPING  
z- the lad’s probably nervous enough without you jumping on him like this  
l- WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON ZAYN  
z- the side that lets me get back to sleep

As annoying as they were being, they had a point. As he lay awake the last few hours, Louis kept thinking of everything that could go wrong with his plan. It wasn’t the greatest plan in the world, he had only just thought of it a couple days ago, and honestly he was just planning on winging most of it. What if they could help? A few extra sets of eyes watching out for bumps in the road? Goodness knows his own mind will be preoccupied with other matters when the time came.

—‘when we land and get off the plane’

n- YESSSSSSSS

—‘hush up or I won’t finish’

z- that’s what Harry said  
n- eww  
l- nasty

Louis slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, jostling Harry enough to cause his eyelids to flutter and a mumble to escape his lips. “Shh, it’s okay, love. Back to sleep now,” Louis whispered just loud enough for Harry to hear as he wrapped his arm back around the younger boy’s shoulders and kissed the top of his soft curls.

“Mmkay,” Harry muttered before his breathing turned back to the soft, set pattern of dreams.

—‘I’ll let that go cause that was utterly brilliant’

—‘Anyway’  
—‘when we land and get off the plane there’s that corridor with windows?’  
—‘My plan is to stop harry, look out the windows and be like’  
—‘We’re finally home but home is anywhere I’m with you marry me?’

l- not half bad well done  
n- really good, simple but heartfelt all the same

The last thing Louis remembered was smiling at his phone, strangely happy that his idea was approved.

The next was a beautiful voice nagging him out of a too short sleep.

“Lou.”

“Louis.”

“Louuuuuuu-ehhh.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Lou. Get up.”

Before Louis could open his eyes, soft lips pressed down onto his, followed by the familiar taste of Harry in his mouth.

“Huh, what do you know, it actually works. Kissing the princess awake.” Harry gave a smug grin as he stood up.

“I am not a princess.”

“That’s right, I forgot. You’re a queen.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Well, Your Majesty, we’ve landed. So get your shit together so we can get off this plane.”

Louis sat up and stretched as Harry walked off. So they landed back home already. ‘Home is anywhere I’m with you’’. Shit. He suddenly jumped up, eyes wide, his heart pounding in his ears as he rushed over to the baggage sitting near the door. Digging through his own, he found the small black box and shoved it into his pants pocket.

“Hey, you good, man?”

Louis jumped as Liam’s hand came down on his shoulder.

“Y-Yeah. Just a bit a nerves is all.”

“Don’t worry. You got this.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Zayn added as he grabbed his bag off the floor, “we’ll make this happen.” Niall filed in shortly after with a simple grin and thumbs up as Harry tailed behind him.

Soon enough the door opened and they made their way down the steps from the plane and up to the doors of their gate. Louis barely remembered any of it, save for a small squeeze from Harry’s hand as they walked across the tarmac. The sound of his heart beating in his ears drowned everything else out, his entire focus lay on trying to breathe and walk. Each step closer to the doors he could feel his heart rate slowly climb up and up as every step taken was one step closer to those windows, to that question.

Until he stepped through those doors.

Where he stopped, dead in his tracks.

His heart suddenly seized up and dropped straight down into his stomach.

The entire world crashed down around him.

The noise hit him like a freight train at full speed; fans, cheering, the moment those sliding doors opened and the five of them stepped through. He could see them, the masses of them, lining the walkway, holding signs, jumping, reaching towards them. How in the world did he forget about the fans?

They were everywhere. Always everywhere.

Louis glanced at the spot where he had pictured himself proposing. The girls in front of the stretch of windows began frantically waving, as they realized he was looking at them.

He vaguely noticed Liam, Niall, and Zayn giving each other nervous and saddened glances. There was nothing they could do, no swooping in and saving the day on this one.

“Lou? Are you okay?” Harry asked from a few feet away, aware they were back under watchful eyes.

“Yeah-Yeah, I just—” Louis paused, shaking his head. “Actually no. I’m not. The flight musta done... something. I’m going to go wait in the van. You lot take your time. Don’t worry.”

LT: I was planning on doing it when we landed. I had something prepped along the lines of ‘home is anywhere I’m with you, marry me’. Somehow I forgot about the fans and how they would show up at the airports to see us. Completely blindsided me.

Int: That’s horrible.

LT: Oh, that’s only the beginning.

Int: The beginning?

LT: Let me count all the the ways things blew up in me face...


	6. Chapter 6

LT: Let’s see, I planned out a nice breakfast for the two of us...

Excitement kept Louis from reaching a deep sleep. As soon as the first chimes of his phone’s alarm sounded he instantly opened his eyes, awake, and reached out to silence it off the bedside table. Normally Harry was the first to wake up in the morning, dutifully starting their respective caffeine choices, showering, prepping breakfast, catching up on morning news—all before Louis even began to stir. Today he set his alarm so he could wake up before his boyfriend. He had been planning for today, this morning, all week; slowly gathering supplies each time he left the house and appropriately hiding them each time Harry gave him a moment or two alone.

Gently, Louis disentangled himself from Harry—who remained blissfully asleep, the alarm having not gone on long enough to make him stir—slowly peeling off an arm and nudging a leg over with his own. He slid himself out from under the sleeping boy, easing him down into the warm spot his body left on their mattress. Tucking the blankets back around Harry, Louis placed a soft kiss on his cheek and quickly tiptoed out of the bedroom. He paused at the door for a moment and turned to look back. Harry always slept looking so peaceful, so perfect, not a line of worry dotting his sweet face. Louis couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

But there were other matters at hand today. There would be plenty of time to watch Harry sleep. 

There would be years.

Louis finished his trek to the kitchen and began to tackle the mountain of a project he needed to finish before Harry woke up. He began with pulling his stashed supplies out of their various hiding places in backs of cupboards, the pantry, the bench seat in the kitchen’s nook. Once done with that he set up the counters, preparing them for the eventual cooking of what would be the world’s best breakfast foods. (Harry would have to do the cooking, unfortunately, as Louis was just lucky enough to know how to read a box of mix and use the waffle iron, and that was only because Harry bought the fancy self-regulating one with a timer built in.)

Next task was clearing the table and setting the places. Louis decided the occasion deserved going all out on the place settings, evident by the trimmed tablecloth he flicked over the table which coordinated nicely with the napkins, plates, and chargers still in their respective bags, as well as the bouquet of flowers that should be delivered any minute.

Louis couldn’t help but smile as he imagined how it would all go down. He would finish setting things before going and personally waking up Harry with a few kisses and soft tickles. He would coax the boy out of bed, covering his eyes as they walked into the kitchen. He’d reveal the room to Harry with a cheesy little ‘Ta-Da!’ and Harry would coo and awe over Louis’s handiwork. Harry would turn and give Louis a kiss, asking what the occasion was, and Louis would just casually shrug his shoulders.

In a perfect world, the water would finish heating for tea and the coffee would finish dripping right then and Louis would prepare their preferred cups as Harry would wander over to the stove to begin cooking. He would ask Louis how he wanted his eggs cooked as the pan was heating up, and Louis would recite the line he had been practicing all week, the same line that sparked this whole surprise breakfast idea.

‘Actually, before you MAKE that, I was wondering if first,’ Louis would say casually as he stuck a hand into his pajama’s pocket and pulled out a small box and flipped it open, ‘would you MAKE me your husband?’

There would be a cry of joy, probably tears as well because, well, Harry. Hopefully a Yes. The butter in the pan would burn as they kissed.

There definitely would not be whatever that noise was Louis heard coming from the back of the flat. 

He shook his head, coming back to reality. Upon hearing it again, he set down the small bunch of silverware in his hand and made his way to the source. If Harry was already awake... well, it wasn’t the end of the world.

The noise was louder still as he entered their bedroom. But it was the smell that caused Louis’s breath to hitch in his throat as he recognized it. He glanced at the bed, noticing it empty, the sheets crumpled and haphazardly thrown to the side as if tossed in a hurry. Dashing around the bed to the slightly ajar bathroom door, Louis’s fears were confirmed as he pushed the door open. There knelt Harry, his head hanging over the toilet as he retched once more into the bowl.

“Oh, Haz. Sweetie,” Louis sighed as he knelt down next to the boy, placing a comforting hand on his back.

“Lou,” Harry quietly moaned as the bout finished. He slid his legs out from underneath him and sat on the tile floor, resting his head against the toilet’s seat. “I feel like shit.”

“Definitely no fun waking up with a stomach bug, love.” Louis snatched one of the hand towels off its perch for Harry to wipe his face.

The boy simply groaned, scrunching his face in misery instead of accepting the towel.

“Alright then,” Louis cooed, dabbing Harry’s face for him. “Let’s get you back into bed. Start sleeping this little bugger away.”

“I may have thrown up on the bed,” Harry drawled out, his eyes finally meeting Louis’s for the first time.

That explained the smell, then. “No worries, babe. I’ll take care of it. You sit.” He placed a kiss on top Harry’s head as he stood up.

“Just take it off and put the spare on, I’ll do a wash once I stop feeling like death.” Harry closed his eyes. “Or maybe buy a new set.”

“I vote new set.” Louis left the boy in peace, clinging to the toilet, and walked out of the bath. Instead of taking care of the soiled sheets, he kept walking to the kitchen. This morning required tea, and lots of it, before absolutely anything else went wrong. As soon as he saw the half decorated table he glared, waving it off. He’d have to pack it all back up and hide it somewhere again. There would be no proposals today.

As soon as he poured the hot water for his overdue cup of tea, the doorbell rang. He slammed the mug down with a frustrated groan.

The fucking flowers.

LT: ... but then Harry woke up with the stomach flu. I tried doing a nice dinner at one of his favorite restaurants...

“You sure you can make it back in time?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Harry smiled as he spoke between kisses, looking into Louis’s eyes.

“Because I’ll reschedule. It’s fine. Just tell me now.”

“Lou! I said I’ll be there!” The smile turned into a fit of giggles as Louis dove into his neck. After a particularly vicious nip, Harry swatted at him, pushing him off just enough for their faces to meet. “But if I don’t get going now I certainly won’t be able to make it tonight!”

Louis kissed him one last time before rolling to the side, freeing the boy. “You drive a hard bargain.” He tried grabbing at the hem of Harry’s shirt as he stood up from the couch, where earlier Louis had pounced, trapping the boy beneath him and assaulting him with various methods of affection.

Harry slapped at Louis’s hand with a grin as he quickly fled. Louis couldn’t help but grin as he watched Harry retreat. If this was any indication for the rest of the day, today was going to be absolutely perfect.

Eight hours later, Louis was beginning to doubt his earlier prediction of a perfect day. He checked his phone again, for what was probably the hundredth time in the last five minutes. Harry just wasn’t the kind of person to be late somewhere without saying anything; even if there was just a possibility of maybe being a few minutes late he would text or call. 

It was already fifteen minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and not a word from Harry. The last text he received was from a few hours ago, when he had confirmed the time and restaurant after Louis had nagged him once again if he was sure he’d be able to make it back from his parents’ in time for dinner, and was followed by a quickly snapped picture of Harry’s face making an adorably annoyed pout that was immediately saved as Harry’s new contact icon. Louis considered sending another message, but kept pushing it off, telling himself that Harry would be walking through the doors any moment, any minute now. 

He looked around the restaurant, trying to distract himself. It was a little Italian place that Harry absolutely loved—Louis thought it was honestly like any other Italian restaurant, but with jacked up prices. He had rented out the entire back half of the place so they could have the area all to themselves, no one to over hear them, no one sneaking pictures of them. He had paid way too much for the space, surprising even the owner when he agreed to pay the ridiculous amount that was clearly pulled out of thin air to scare him away, but Harry was worth it. This moment was worth it, dress pants, scratchy collared shirt, expensive restaurant and all.

“Harry didn’t say this place was going to be so swanky!” An accented voice pulled Louis out of his thoughts as the chair across from him scraped as it was pulled out. “I woulda put sumthin a little nicer on.”

Louis’s eyes snapped up across the table, a scowl spreading across his face. “Niall! Why the fuck are you here?!”

A scared look flashed across the boy’s face. “Harry says he’s sorry but—”

“What! He’s not coming?!” Louis slammed his hands on the table. Everything rattled and the server waiting patiently across the room jumped at the noise.

“He... he... um...” Niall gulped, clearly not prepared to handle an angry Louis. “He’s stuck in traffic. There was a bad accident on the highway. He knew you would be mad that he wasn’t here so he begged me to come. So you wouldn’t have to eat alone.”

“He could have fucking said something!” Louis shook his phone before slamming it, too, on the table. He could feel the rage seething from every pore of his body. Harry promised. Promised.

“He’s real sorry, Lou, really. Here. Look.” Niall leaned over the table holding out his phone. He scrolled with his other hand through an extensively long exchange between him and Harry, though Harry had done most of the texting. He scrolled through at a decent pace, and Louis caught glimpses of sentences. Harry was THAT person who texted in full sentences. 

‘You don’t understand, I promised!’  
‘He asked me like a thousand times if I’d be there.’  
‘Please, Ni. Please, please, please.’  
‘I don’t want him to be alone.’  
‘I’m the worst person ever.’

“He said to tell him when you’re done being mad.”

“Well, it’s gonna be a long—”

Niall scrolled further. “Oh, wait! He said to tell you he’d do... well, whatever this is,” he held out the phone once more. “If you would forgive him. Said you’d know what he means?” 

Louis felt a blush creep across his cheeks as he read the screen. Quickly, he covered his face with his hands, elbows on the table. Thank god for Niall’s innocence. “Tell him I’ll see him when I get home,” he sighed, defeated. He supposed it wasn’t Harry’s fault he was stuck in traffic. “Feel free to add in an ‘I love you’ or something sappy.”

“Done and done.” Niall grinned as he set his phone face down on the table. “Now, shall we eat? Harry says this place is amazing.”

Louis rolled his eyes as he played with his cloth napkin. “Might as well. I paid a stupid amount for all this and I doubt that cheapskate of an owner will give me a refund.”

“Why did you buy out half a restaurant, anyway?” Niall glanced up over his menu. “Seems a bit... over the top for a night out for the two of ya.”

“Not just a night out,” Louis sighed as he held the small box up for the other boy to see before placing it back in his pocket to be used some other day.

LT: ...but I ended up eating with Niall instead.


	7. Chapter 7

LT: God, there were so many dinners, or meals in general, where I attempted to propose. It got to the point where I tried to guess beforehand what would go wrong this time. I tried things I found online...

Godforsaken little glowy pieces of shit.

Louis gave a growl of frustration as the tiny string of fairy lights he was trying to hang tangled up once again. He stepped down off the ladder for a sit to work out the latest knot. If Harry wasn’t going to love them so much they’d already be in the trash—no, he never would have bought them in the first place.

He paused for a moment, taking a look around the living room in which he sat. The majority of the lights had been hung, cascading down the walls in waves and neatly piled over and across various pieces of furniture, giving the entire room a soft yellow glow. He had candles dotted throughout the room—flameless, after that small incident at that hotel in Chicago—with pillows and flower petals scattered about in a way that he hoped appeared romantic and not a disheveled mess that he was too lazy to clean up. It was kinda pretty, he had to admit. And if he liked it, Harry was sure to be in love with it.

Harry had texted not too long ago that he was running late at the studio, and Louis was grateful for the delay. The lights were the final task, though they probably should have been his first now that he thought about it, with only one corner of wall left to stick them up in.

This time was going to be perfect—or, at the very least, the job would finally get done. He could feel it. It was nothing big and fancy, nothing too extreme and complicated. Just a romantically lit cozy room—double foolproof, in that Harry had to pass through it to get out of the kitchen, so there was no avoiding it— with Louis waiting on one knee for Harry to enter and get proposed to. Simple. Granted, he had said that about other plans, but this time it truly was. He even ran it past the boys for feedback on making it foolproof this time.

With the last bit of string tacked to the walls (which, after how long this took, would probably stay up until they moved out), all that was left was to wait for Harry. He should have asked about what time he would be home. He didn’t want to call or text now and potentially interrupt something that would delay things further. 

Louis sat down on the floor in the spot he was intending to propose from. He wanted no chance of screwing this up and being in the wrong spot when Harry came home, or tripping over something trying to get back. This was going to happen, whether the universe liked it or not. 

He had made phone calls to everyone who could potentially barge in on them, telling them to stay away.

“Lou.”

There was even a backup plan with a teacup that had ‘Marry Me?’ printed on the bottom that Lottie had found online and shipped to him. Louis had it ready to go, in case he got cold feet and the nerves kept him from actually asking the question.

“Louis, darling.”

Louis popped his head up, sure he had heard something. But all there was was the silence of an empty house. Music! He should get some kind of romantic playlist going...

“Louis, sweetheart. Wake up.”

Louis felt an invisible hand on his arm before the darkness hit. He blinked a few times, the living room coming back into focus, only sideways. Harry gazed at him with a beaming smile as he sat on the coffee table in front of Louis. “Morning, sunshine.” He gave Louis’s arm a squeeze.

Louis sat himself up—somehow he was on the couch, he couldn’t recall sitting on it—and found a string of tangled fairy lights bunched in his hand. He snapped his eyes up in a panic, looking around. The trails of lights around the furniture were there, as well as the candles and the flower petals. The walls were fully coated with lights, minus the one corner he had left.

“Morning...?” Louis mumbled as he rubbed at his neck, sore from, apparently, sleeping on the couch as well as his sudden head whipping a moment ago.

“Did you do all this?” Harry asked with glee in his voice as he gazed around the room.

“I... Yeah. Well, I started, anyway,” Louis lamented. “If it’s morning, when did you get home?”

“Around two. They wanted to go out for drinks after and I wasn’t allowed to decline. Found you snoring away and figured I’d let you sleep.” Harry kept looking around him in amazement. “Lou... this is amazing! But, why?”

Louis stared at the boy a moment, contemplating his options. He could still propose. Harry was giddy with the decorations, and it would finally get it over with. But how would it look for Louis to just wake up and propose? Absolutely nothing romantic about that, even with twinkling lights all around them.

“Just, wanted to surprise you is all.”

LT: ...like decorating our flat. I tried cutting out the inside of a book and putting the ring inside. And he has the nerve to tell me ‘Oh, I read that one already’.

HS: I remember that! You’re serious?! The ring was in there?

LT: Dead serious. You’re lucky I didn’t smack you with the damn thing. So then at some point I thought to myself...

“Harold. Pack your bags.”

“WHAT?” Harry’s eyes had grown wide at Louis’s announcement as he burst through the door. “Why?! Let’s at least talk first!”

Louis chucked his keys into the bowl by the door. “Hmm? Oh, no, never. You’re stuck with me, Styles. I booked us a trip! A little ‘vay-cay’ before promo season starts. You and me.”

The next morning the pair boarded an early morning flight to a beautiful, and secluded, beachfront resort, complete with their very own open-air cabin, that Louis had booked after a brilliant idea had struck him. If he was having no luck proposing to Harry anywhere in England, why not leave and try a whole different country?

Two days had passed. Days filled with warm air, sunshine, and lounging in each other’s arms enjoying the scenery of the ocean and the general peaceful atmosphere the quiet resort offered. It was the afternoon of their second-to-last day as Louis lounged happily on the beach between Harry’s legs, leaning back on the other boy’s chest, face to the clear sky. Harry propped himself up against one of the tropical trees dotting the shore, his arms draped lazy around Louis’s midsection, a smile on his face.

“Why have we never done this before?” Harry asked. “This is amazing.”

“Mmm,” Louis agreed, his vision tinted brown from his sun glasses. He took one of Harry’s hands in his, twining their fingers together. “Surf. Sand. Sun. Se—”

“Louis!”

“I was going to say ‘scenery’.”

“You were not.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Louis smirked as he tipped his head back for a kiss, which Harry obliged.

Louis hadn’t a worry in the world. They would lounge on the beach today, maybe dip their toes in the water at some point. Tonight at sunset they would go for a walk and he would propose on said beach—he had done some research, and beach-at-sunset proposals were one of the top and most romantic proposal ideas out there. Then they would have all day tomorrow to enjoy being engaged before having to head back home and back to their crazy pop star lives. Simple. Foolproof, even. The magic of the internet, right there.

After a few minutes, Harry nudged Louis with his knee. “Go get us something to drink? I went last time.”

Louis was ready to give the boy a witty comeback as he turned around, but came face to face with an adorable pout. Even with Harry wearing a pair of aviators that hid his gorgeous greens, Louis melted at the sight of that lower lip sticking out. “Alright, love.” He gave a quick kiss before standing and walking to their little cabin just behind them.

As he rummaged through the small fridge, a hum started up beside him. Looking over the open door, Louis found his phone screen lit up as the device slowly danced across the countertop. After catching sight of the caller’s picture, he let out a growl as he snatched the phone, accepting the call as he continued his beverage search.

“You have some serious balls to be calling me while I’m on holiday, Payno.”

“Louis! Oh thank god! I’ve been trying to call you all day!” Liam spoke in a panic.

“What did you do? Lose Niall again?” Louis balanced his phone with his shoulder as he pulled out two glass bottles and set them on the counter. “You sound horrible.”

“No, no, I... I came over because Harry asked me to water the plants—”

“We have houseplants?” This was news to Louis.

“Yes. I gave you some as a housewarming gift, remember? But that’s not why I was trying to call. Louis, you forgot the ring!”

“No, I didn’t. It’s in my bag you blubbering idiot.” He kept the phone balanced as he rummaged around for a bottle opener.

“Well, unless you have an exact replica sitting here on your nightstand, yes, you did.”

Louis rolled his eyes and walked over to the sofa where his carry-on bag lay. “I’ve got it right here in me bag. It was the first thing I packed. I’m looking for it right now to prove your stupid ass wrong.” He rummaged around in the bag until he found the small black box he was in search of. “Here we go. Got the box right here. One small black box, and inside we have—.”

He flipped the lid open and instantly threw the box across the room as a long string of profanities spewed from his mouth.

The box had the audacity to land right side up on the floor, a pair of cuff links reflecting a single ray of sunlight.

LT: ...why not get out of the country? A nice romantic vacation? But I forgot the stupid ring back in our flat.

HS: I... I had no idea you tried so many—

LT: Oh-ho! Then there was when we flew to the states for some promo for our new album...

Maybe he had run out of luck; that just after twenty-one trips around the sun, Louis had somehow used up all the luck he was allowed to have in his entire lifetime, and now he was left with nothing but tragedy and mediocre outcomes. There could be no other explanation for everything. He had a laundry list of failed proposals. Management had caught wind of Louis’s plans and vastly upped his public exposure with his girlfriend in retaliation. Harry was given the century’s biggest publicity stunt of a girlfriend, probably for the same reason. And now this.

If it really was the case, Louis knew exactly how he had used every last drop of luck he possessed: getting Harry. There was no other way other than pure luck as to how someone as wonderful and amazing as Harry could ever enjoy being around, much less actually love, someone as lackluster as himself. Someone with such a heart of gold, a sweet disposition, an angelic face with eyes that were never the same shade of green twice, and a smile that melted Louis from the inside-out—how could that same someone ever, in a million years, even tolerate another someone like himself. Someone who had more mean streaks than kind ones. Someone who was sarcastic and petty and an overall general nuisance.

“That’s it, I give up. I’m done.” Louis was on the verge of tears as he sat on the floor of the baggage claim, his head in his hands. Liam and Zayn flanked him on either side, trying to offer words of comfort and encouragement to their friend, though their words went unheard. Across the room, Harry and Niall were two hawks circling the baggage carousel, waiting for their prey—in this case, Louis’s currently AWOL luggage—to appear.

“It’s alright. It’ll show. It’s got to.” Zayn gave Louis’s shoulder a squeeze. “I mean, literally every other piece of luggage and equipment is accounted for. It’s got to be around somewhere.”

“But it’s not! It’s gone! Who knows where my stuff is. Could be flying to a completely different country for all we know.” Louis’s voice cracked from the strain of holding back tears. “Want to take a guess what was in that bag?”

Liam and Zayn glanced at each other before responding in unison. “The ring.”

“Yes, the fucking ring.” Louis whimpered. “I don’t even care about the rest of the stuff. I can go re-buy everything else. But the ring!”

“Don’t worry Tommo,” Liam patted Louis’s other shoulder. “Tomorrow, after all the press stuff, we’ll go out and look for another ring. Won’t we, Zayn?”

Zayn leaned over with an encouraging smile. “Yeah. The three of us. We’ll hit every jewelry store this city has until we find something.”

“You don’t understand! That was it! That was THE ring!”

“Look, I don’t think Harry will care that much about the ring. Just that you’re proposing. That’s the part that matters.” Liam tried to reason with the distraught boy. “It’s gonna get replaced with a wedding band at some point anyway.”

“Maybe,” Louis continued to ramble, ignoring Liam’s advice, “maybe it’s just not meant to happen. Maybe we’re not meant to be together and that’s why we have to suffer like this and that’s why I keep failing at this proposing nonsense. He’s too good for me anyway. He’s better off without me.”

“Oh, not this again,” Liam gave a frustrated sigh. “I swear to god between you and Harry I have this conversation at least once a week.”

“He’s too good for you and you’re too good for him. That’s why you’re perfect for each other.” Zayn spread his arms to make his point. “Balance.”

“That’s... one way to say it.” Liam raised an eyebrow. “Anyway. Quit talking nonsense. You two are deeply—and I mean stupidly, madly, bottomlessly deeply to a point I can’t even comprehend—in love. You two are meant to be together. And you two will get engaged and you will get married. Stop being so hard on yourself. So what if your ideal ring is gone? You could give Harry a plastic ring from one of those coin vending machines and he’d cherish it and flaunt it like a real diamond simply because you gave it to him. You, Louis. You.”

Liam’s motivational speech did little to lift Louis’s spirits. This was the final straw in the haystack of Louis’s life, and he just could not take another single thing going wrong. He was at his breaking point from stress and they weren’t even on tour yet.

Louis felt hands gently take hold of his hands and move them down, away from his face. His eyes now uncovered, he found Harry sitting on his knees in front of him. He hadn’t heard the boy approach.

Harry spoke softly, his hand coming to rest on Louis’s knee. “I’m sorry, Lou, they can’t find it. Someone went to file paperwork for a lost baggage claim, but... I’m sorry.”

Louis looked up into Harry’s eyes, really looked. They were filled with sadness, pity, as if he was the one who had lost luggage, not Louis. “S’alright, not your fault.” He cracked a tiny smile. Something tugged inside Louis as he looked at Harry’s face. Something that urged him to do something, anything, to make Harry smile again. Because Harry couldn’t be sad.

The response he gave was enough, as Harry smiled back, the feeling in the pit of Louis’s stomach fading away. “You’re welcome to anything that’s mine, if you need it. Until you can replace whatever got lost.”

“At least I didn’t lose you.”

“You’re such a sap.” Harry laughed as he stood up and ruffled Louis’s hair.

LT: ...and my luggage got lost with the ring in it, and I literally had a mental breakdown. Literally. Because at that point I was just at the last straw on everything.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to the original creator of the image (meme? Tweet?Tumblr post? idk) that prompted this scene.

Int: Harry, are you ... are you crying? Are you okay?

HS: I just... I had no idea.

LT: I never told him most of my plans. A couple of them I brought up over the years, but the majority of them? Never said a word. And I’m probably forgetting a fair few to be honest...

HS: No! Not that! Well, maybe a little of that—I had no idea how long you were trying to ask me.

Int: Then What is it?

HS: I could have had any of those wonderfully romantic proposals! But no! I didn’t!

Int: How did the actual proposal go?

LT: Considering all my past efforts, the actual event really was a bit of a letdown, now that I think about it. But it’s still a great story—well, at least I think so. We were on the tour bus, parked in some random lot as we waited for someone from the crew to come drop us some lunch.

HS: McDonald’s! All the money we had, all the restaurants who would sweep out a red carpet for us, and we were sitting around waiting for McDonald’s!

(New message: Nialler sent an attachment)

Louis glanced up across the small space, to where Niall sat in the booth in the bus company’s sorry excuse for a kitchen. The Irish boy met his gaze for a moment before cracking a smile and looking back down to type. In a few seconds, Louis’s phone vibrated again with another message.

n-this is how u should do it 

Looking back up Louis could see Niall barely containing his obnoxious laughter, his shoulders shaking. Zayn raised his eyebrow from across the table, a questioning glance as he spoke. “What’s wrong with you?” In response, Niall turned his phone to Zayn, showing him the attachment that had been sent. After a moment of looking at the screen Zayn grinned, nodding his head as turned to Louis, giving a thumbs up.

Louis rolled his eyes and went back to his own phone, tapping the attachment Niall had sent. And image popped up, filled with text. Louis’s eyes widened as he read the image. ‘You’re mad’ he mouthed toward Niall when he was finished.

Niall and Zayn both grinned back at him. He could almost hear the unspoken conversation between the three of them.

You’re mad.  
Ah come on! It’s great!  
Stupid is more like it.  
Come on, think about it. It’s perfect.  
Really think.

“Better question: what’s wrong with your face?” Harry’s foot shoved Louis back to reality as it softly kicked into his side. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen that look before.”

Louis glanced over across the couch, where Harry lay sprawled out scrolling through his phone like the rest of them, his feet draped on Louis’s lap, and a thought came to him. Maybe this really was the way to do it. Not a single one of his plans the last few months had worked out, a few of them resulting in utter disasters. Maybe he was destined to do this spontaneously on a whim instead of planning out an extravagant event.

“An even better question: where’s the food?” Niall glared at the door to the bus.

A spontaneous moment, just like now.

“Hey Haz, wanna hear a joke?” Louis chirped, sitting up straighter and pushing Harry’s legs off. He smirked as he watched his two friends across the way drop their mouths open, eyes wide in shock.

Zayn was the first to pipe up. “Louis, you don’t—”

“Since when do you tell jokes?” Harry gave a disgusted look as he pulled his legs back up on the couch, bending his knees to tuck his feet under Louis’s leg. “That’s my thing. Have you been reading my notebook again?”

“I don’t think you have this one in your collection, dear.”

“I was joking!” Niall burst out, a little too loud. “You don’t have to, Louis!”

“You told him the joke?” Harry looked over and Niall shrunk down, waves of panic and terror washing over him as he bore the full force of Harry’s glare. “And not me?”

“Eh, I tell it better,” Louis shrugged. “Come on, Haz.”

“Okay. Fine. Better be good. I could use new material for the shows this weekend.”

“This isn’t a joke you can do at a show,” Zayn muttered.

Louis cleared his throat, ignoring the two idiots sat across the room, and stuffed his hand into his pocket. He had taken to carrying the box around with him lately, but was never quite sure why. Maybe this was the reason. From the corner of his eye he could see Zayn and Niall trying to be discreet about holding their phones up, obviously recording, as they continued to stare—Niall in a full panic and Zayn giddy with excitement.

“Alright then. Knock, knock.”

“Who’s th—Wait. Wait just a minute. You all harass me about knock knock jokes, yet here you are trying to tell me a knock knock joke,” Harry pushed himself up onto an elbow.

“Harry, please. I promise it’s a good one. Now, knock, knock.”

“Double standards, Lou!”

“HAROLD JUST ANSWER THE FOOKIN DOOR. KNOCK. KNOCK.”

“Jeez, okay, okay.” Harry rolled his eyes at Louis as he continued to lean on his elbow, “who’s there?”

Louis took a breath. “Marry.”

“Mary, who?” Harry flopped back down, completely unaware of what was ahead of him.

Louis could feel his stomach hitch up into his throat as he answered, “Marry... me?”

“‘Mary me’? What kind of punchline—WHAT?” Harry sprang upright as the words finally clicked, that Mary was actually marry, and he came face to face with Louis on one knee with a small black box held out. After taking the sight in for a moment, Harry slid a hand over his mouth, his eyes crinkled in delight. “Really? You’re serious. Are you serious? You’re serious!”

“Harry, I’m on me knee, I’ve got a ring, I cracked a stupid joke just for you, and those two idiots are filming us. I don’t think it’s possible to be more serious.”

Harry glanced over Louis’s shoulder to the recording phones. “I just... I don’t know what to say... Yes! I mean, yes!”

From behind him, Louis could barely hear the cheers and whooping sounds from the kitchen table as all his senses became focused on Harry. Louis watched as Harry slid down off the couch onto his knees, his face still beaming, a couple tears had run down his cheeks. Harry opened his arms and wrapped them around Louis, holding him tight. Instinctively, Louis pressed his face into Harry’s neck, breathing in the comforting smell he could only describe as his Hazza. 

When they pulled away from each other, Louis took the ring from its box. “It isn’t much. And it’s not the one I originally had, but to be honest I like this one even better. But I wanted to get something you could wear even while we’re out performing and stuff.” He tilted the ring for Harry to see the inside and watched a tear roll down the boy’s cheek as he read the inscription, “Always in my heart HS —LT.” As he placed the ring on Harry’s finger Louis turned it until a single stamped word was visible—peace. “Because you’re my peace, Harry. No matter how crazy this life gets I know when I look at you everything will be okay.”

“It’s wonderful,” Harry choked out as he admired the ring on his hand. With happy tears on both their faces, Harry reached out and took Louis’s face in both hands and kissed him deeply.

There was a bang of the bus door closing, then the sound of Liam’s confused voice. “Why are you two on the floor?” He paused. “And why are you two crying?”

Louis pulled away to face Liam.

“You’re crying too. Why is everyone crying? I leave for five minutes and you all start crying!”

Louis leaned back enough to see that Zayn and Niall had scooted closer together in the booth and were now holding each other, their cheeks wet with tears. 

“He finally did it!” Zayn cried out.

“He. Actually. Did it.” Niall gasped between sobs.

“Who finally did what?” Liam shouted as he waved his arms, confused what was actually going on. 

Harry simply raised his ring-adorned middle finger, and only that finger, to Liam as he smiled and leaned in for another kiss from Louis.

“You What—no. No you did not. You did not.” Liam’s voice grew angry. “I leave for five minutes, five measly minutes, for a simple jog to stretch a bit, and I miss- I can’t believe I actually missed—”

“It’s okay, Li. We recorded the whole thing.” Zayn offered, waving his phone.

Liam launched into another rant, but Louis stopped listening. He returned himself to the kiss at hand and back to the boy he was holding, and would be holding for a long, long time.

LT: It started as a joke but just eventually evolved into me saying screw it and just asking right then and there in front of the boys. Nothing extravagant. Nothing grand. The most planning I did was having the ring in me pocket, and that was more of a lucky coincidence to be honest.

HS: Liam missed it though. He threw a tantrum for a week straight.

LT: Yeah, poor lad.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE ‘CAUSE WHY NOT, LOVES~
> 
> If you’ve been dying for some Gemma sass, then this is the chapter for you.
> 
> There is not enough Gemma Styles in the world. I may be a bit obsessed after the Brits, haha.

Int: Aww! That is very sweet!

HS: Absolutely not. If I had known of all my other options—

LT: You woulda said yes regardless because you've always been a sucker for me.

Int: How were your families reaction to the news?

HS + LT: Ehhh...

In that moment, Harry never wanted the kisses to end. He and Louis were pressed up into the corner of the bathroom in their hotel suite—the band’s suite, actually, but it had become customary to just let the two of them share a bedroom instead of everyone shifting beds in the middle of the night. Though, exactly who was pressing whom into the corner remained uncertain. Today had been the most wonderful day of Harry’s life, and as long as they stood there with their roaming hands and soft kisses, the day didn’t have to end and Harry could revel in it as long as he desired. During Harry’s turn pressed against the wall, he suddenly jumped forward, knocking into Louis as his phone unexpectedly vibrated in his back pocket.

“Sorry, my phone...”

“S’alright, Love. S’alright.” Louis smirked as he wiped a hand across his mouth. 

“It’s my mum.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten Louis’s mess and answered the video call without looking. “Hi, Mummy.”

“Mummy?! You still answer the phone with ‘Hi, Mummy’?! How old are you, Harry? Five?”

Confused, Harry looked at the screen. When the call had come in, he swore the phone showed his mother’s picture as the caller. Instead, his sister stared disapprovingly back at him. “Nineteen. But I’ll always be her little angel,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes. “Hello, Gemma. Why, exactly, are you calling me from Mum’s phone?”

“Oh, I’m wonderful, Harry, thank you for asking! Aren’t you the most considerate little brother—”

“Gemma, I was in the middle of something.” He smiled over at Louis, who smiled back as he finished putting away their packed toiletries, a task that Harry had originally started when he walked into the bathroom earlier. 

“Do you know what time it is here, Harry?”

“You called to ask me that when you could just look at, oh I don’t know, the phone? Or one of the dozen wall clocks Mum has hanging?”

“It is five o’clock. In the morning.”

“And?”

“And I am awake. Fully awake. Wide awake. When I should very much still be asleep.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry trailed behind Louis as he left the bathroom, and sat down on the edge of the bed as Louis continued to flit about, unpacking things. “I’m not understanding why this requires a call to me.”

“I’m calling because a certain Johannah Deakin rang the house phone not too long ago.”

Louis met Harry’s eyes at the mention of his mother’s name.

“Do you have any idea why she would be ringing the house at such an ungodly time, Harry?”

“No.” Harry tried his best to maintain a straight face, “No, I do not know why she rang the house.”

“Hmm. Really now.”

“Really, Gems.”

“Well. In that short bit Mum was on the phone, her excited screeching woke me up. Probably woke up the whole neighborhood. She’s still in a bit of a tizzy.”

“You don’t say,” the sarcasm dripped from Harry’s voice as his face was desperately failing at remaining neutral. “Sounds simply dreadful.”

“Harry. Edward.”

“Gemma. Anne.” Harry retorted, his sister’s eyes rolling in reply.

“You see, Mum is running—and I mean, quite literally, running—around the house all flustered and cooing over you ever since she hung up the phone because, according to Johannah, their little babies are, and I quote: getting married.”

“Who ever heard of such a thing! Marriage! How scandalous!” Harry pressed a hand over his heart, feigning shock.

“You mean to tell me you really don’t know anything about this?”

“Well,” Harry grinned as he lifted his right hand to his chin in thought, sticking his newly-adorned middle finger out slightly, “now that I think about it, Lou may have mentioned something.”

“HARRY!” His sister screeched, nearly blowing out the speakers on his phone. Harry dropped the phone in surprise where it bounced on the floor, landing near Louis.

“Did she faint?” Louis asked as he bent to pick up the phone and handed it back.

Taking the phone, Harry looked at the screen which, instead of showing his sister, now showed the moving ceiling fan that was above his family’s kitchen table. “I don’t... think... so? You can kinda hear voices in the background. Maybe.”

Louis sat down next to Harry and the pair bent their heads over the electronic device, listening for any signs of life. Soon enough, they heard footsteps growing louder and the picture blurred as someone picked up the phone.

“HARRY EDWARD STYLES,” the voice of Harry’s mum blared through the phone as the image finally stilled and the Styles women came into focus.

“H-hi, Mummy.”

“Still with the ‘Mummy’ nonsense,” Gemma muttered.

“What is this I hear about you getting engaged, young man?” Harry shuddered as his mother somehow managed to stare him down through a tiny screen thousands of miles away.

Louis tried to sneak away off the bed, but Harry grabbed his arm, yanking him back down. “Oh no you don’t,” Harry glared at him, “you’re the reason I’m about to have my ass handed to me direct from England. You’re staying right here.”

“Hand you your...? Oh, no, dear! No, no, not at all! I’m happy! So very happy!” Anne beamed. “If I’m miffed about anything at all it’s that I had to hear it from Johannah and not my own son.”

“I was going to call later, at a more decent hour, I swear.” He turned to Louis, “how did your mum find out already anyway?”

“You know I’m a mummy’s boy. I may have texted her about five seconds after you said yes... I’m honestly surprised she stayed quiet as long as she did.”

HS: They uh... they knew it was a long time coming.

LT: Yeah. We’ll go with that. Final answer. Next question.


End file.
